


probably nothing, possibly everything

by netherfriends



Series: what am i supposed to do [1]
Category: DuckTales (Cartoon 2017)
Genre: Angst, Angst With A Mostly Happy Ending, Gladstone's luck, Hopeful Ending, It's kinda rushed, and all my weird issues, and based off of mine, gladstone is not okay, gladstone's thoughts are weird, it's written kinda weirdly, just because i didn't want to end the fic with everything being solved, lots of mentions of issues, so kinda based gladstone off of that, this was just put together by my crappy self-worth thoughts, tics and fidgets
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-28
Updated: 2020-08-28
Packaged: 2021-03-06 16:28:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,901
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26151919
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/netherfriends/pseuds/netherfriends
Summary: sometimes gladstone's thoughts confused him.
Series: what am i supposed to do [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1899175
Comments: 2
Kudos: 54





	probably nothing, possibly everything

**Author's Note:**

> gladstone's issues (depression, bad thoughts, and other struggles) is purely based on my own depression. i might have slipped some of my ADHD into it too. ducktales doesn't belong to me, nor do any of the characters in this fic. i might make this a series. although yeah this is just a bunch of junk i wrote because i felt like crap.
> 
> | unedited |

Gladstone doesn't know when he started feeling this.

_Lies._

Gladstone most definitely loves his life.

_Lies._

Gladstone is _fine._

Only problem is, that that is most definitely a lie.

\---

The earliest was when he was thirteen, Donald and Della coming over to Grandma's farm was common. Common enough that Gladstone anticipated each second before they came to visit. Although when they did he brushed it off with a snarky joke and a smug attitude.

They had played, had a good time, Donald had gotten into a particularly _unlucky_ situation that Gladstone and Della made sure to tease him about. Nothing was off really, he was happy.

Then they left and Gladstone had went to his room, waving off his grandma when she had asked him to wash the dishes. Of course he'd do it later, he didn't have a choice.

He settled onto his bed, the feelings of joy finally fading. And then, he was just dull. He was feeling, oh most definitely. But it was more like a background noise, one that wasn't that hard to ignore. He was tapping his fingers subconsciously.

Gladstone had realized what was happening, although not to the full extent, and looked in disgust at his fidgeting. He stopped immediately and left his room. Doing the dishes seemed nice.

Later, when he was fifteen he had recognized it. He didn't understand it, and he hated it.

Gladstone was laying in the dirt, having not bothered to get up. Grandma Elvira had to be worried, which had almost gotten him to get up but for some reason he stayed put. He was savoring in the pain, soaking it up like it was a gift rather than a brutal punch in the face.

Gladstone wasn't new to getting hurt in fights, his luck seemed to laugh every time it came to people. It seemed to enjoy when he was slammed into lockers by kids for no reason other than _jealously._ The constant want of others to be like him, to have his luck. Gladstone didn't like his luck as much as he had when he was a child. But the bruise on his face still hurt and was probably an ugly shade of purple.

He couldn't find it in himself to care.

He had sat there in the dirt, curled up and staring up at the stars. Fethry always said they were pretty, right now they were making Gladstone feel empty. 

And yet nothing was different other than the ache in his whole body which was everywhere except his bruise. Something wet slid on his cheek although Gladstone wasn't sad and certainly had no reason to cry. It was just a tear, though there was no emotion behind it.

His thoughts were in the background, moving around and making a ruckus but no matter how hard Gladstone tried he couldn't understand what those thoughts were. He started tugging at his hair harshly, and was scratching his feathers roughly. Tears pricked again but he was focusing he was just trying to feel _something_ \- _anything_ \- 

Then he was brought back to reality and his feathers were a bit red with irritation and some were loosened. His scalp hurt a lot, like someone had pulled his hair too tightly. Which, hey, he had. He heaved in a breath and backed away, although there was no one else here. He moved to try and get away from himself- but oh god he was still here and he had been hurting himself like an idiot but he didn't want to hurt himself-

He dragged his hands across his face and then shakily stood up, the small sparks of pain from his purple eye no longer his problem. And then everything was overwhelming him, the noises the crickets were making, the wind, he just wanted it to _stop_ \- he covered his ears and ran and ran and ran because he needed to move- he needed to get away from what? What was he even running away from?

When he staggered up to the front door and knocked he barely registered Grandma Elvira's voice scolding him for being out so late and then asking him if his eye was okay. He hummed and waved her off, saying he'd fix it up. All he did was grab a pack of ice, press it against his eye and lay down on his bed for an hour before he went to sleep. During that he had forcibly smacked himself every time he had started to fidget or move- or just do _anything_ although that was the very thing he wanted to do the most.

\---

Relationships had become a hard thing for Gladstone, especially as he grew older. Most people only went to him for hopes of gaining some of his luck, or to try and steal from him. He didn't care as much as he should've, after all the free stuff he had acquired had no real purpose to him and it was rather a blessing for it to be taken off of his hands.

Della- she had died a couple years ago. Gladstone remembered not crying, but rather holding onto Fethry who had also come. No one explained what happened to her but it was obvious it was something bad, bad, _bad_ by the looks Scrooge and Donald kept giving each other and how they were avoiding one another. Gladstone had stayed and talked with Fethry because he had missed the guy and his company was nice. He talked about the underwater lab he worked in, about the krill he took care of. Fethry avoided mentioning Della and Gladstone didn't press. Apparently Donald was taking in her kids, which was something that stuck in his head for some reason.

He thought about it when he left and a stranger had tried to offer his expensive car when he saw him walking alone. He had declined and moved on.

Gladstone had stayed and lived with Donald for a while to take care of the kids, talking to the eggs was nice. Fethry sometimes came and helped, Donald having first objected to it but then opening up to the idea. After all, he already had Gladstone with him and well- Gladstone and Donald hadn't ever been the best of pals. But he was grateful that Donald had even let him stay, despite how it might have seemed.

Once Gladstone had woken up and had heaved into the toilet. The swaying of the boat wasn't helping and his thoughts were mushed together but they were flying together so fast, no longer the easily ignored background noise. But the thoughts weren't even thoughts- although they were making his head spin. He had dry heaved until he was light-headed, he had wanted to pass out in the bathroom but thought about what Donald might think to that so he carried himself to his bed and fell asleep.

Fresh air was nice to get, especially in Macaw. Liu Hai had welcomed him into his hotel, which was as small as the had been toad. Gladstone had stayed for a day, then two, then three, then too many. Gladstone had stayed there and he had slept for days and then stayed awake for too long and often he refused to eat the meals Liu Hai set out for him even though they used to be his favorite. The toad grew bigger and more powerful and pointed out Gladstone's chain a lot more, the reminder that he was a _prisoner_ here although Gladstone didn't cry anymore. Crying hadn't come as easy as it had when he was a child and naive and young.

Gladstone still looked young and perfect although he felt as though his insides were rotting. Too much time later Gladstone had the mind to call Donald, he had to make up some rubbish excuse to do so as the toad was as possessive as ever.

_"Heya, Donnie! How's it been?"_

_There had been silence before Donald replied, more angry than anything._

_"Gladstone? Why haven't you called? Where have you been?"_

_Gladstone didn't have an answer for the first one because he knew the toad was watching. Always watching. He did however have an answer for the second question._

_"Ah, I'm in..uh East Asia? Macaw, yeah, yeah. Would you mind coming over, to this hotel I'm staying in called The House of Fortune! I need, uh...help."_

_There had been a pause and he had considered hanging up although he knew he'd never get another chance like this again._

_"Sure, can I bring the kids? And, uh, Uncle Scrooge?"_

_"Sure, sure."_

_The call had ended and not more than a day later, time moved much more_ _differently in the casino, Donald had arrived, the rest of the family in tow with him._

Gladstone had laughed, invited them in and played off the need of help as a joke. The invisible chain on his ankle hurt, as though reminding him not to slip up and spill something to them. He had been desperate, hurting the kid Louie who had practically idolized him. But Donald had helped and he was free and oh god it was so nice to see the casino disappear. The stars looked pretty, Fethry had been right.

Gladstone had apologized to Louie properly and was now in the plane with the rest of the family. Uncle Scrooge had fallen asleep after the kids had (they had all piled each up on themselves. It was cute, although Gladstone still didn't know who the purple girl was) he had been seemingly satisfied at this and flopped down for a nap too, his top hat shielding his eyes.

Gladstone was sitting in a chair, and was staring into the distance. Avoiding eye contact with his cousin. He was afraid he'd lie to the guy, and he definitely didn't want to lie to Donald, his cousin who had still saved him even after how rocky their relationship was.

"How long were you in there for?" Gladstone stiffened, but didn't turn to look at Donald, afraid of what he'd see.

After a moment, he responded. "Dunno, time was kinda weird there." He ended it off with an awkward laugh that didn't hold any humor in it.

Donald was practically boring a hole through Gladstone's skull with how he was staring at him. Slowly, Gladstone turned to look at Donald and saw the look of concern written on his face. It was overwhelming.

"Gladstone..." He started but paused.

Gladstone turned his attention to his thumbs that were twiddling with themselves. He forced himself to stop, although he felt horrible about it afterward. 

"Why'd you come for me? Don't you like, hate me or somethin'?"

Donald let out a squawk and reached over to grab his shoulder but stopped when Gladstone stiffened. He retreated his hand back and Gladstone watched it.

" _No_ , I don't hate you." Donald let out a huff but he still looked at Gladstone with care.

"Oh."

Gladstone's eyes drifted downwards, towards his thumbs which had taken to twiddling among themselves again. Gladstone didn't still himself. Eventually Donald fell asleep but all Gladstone could do was stare distantly into the window. Watching the clouds pass by, not even minding the occasional bump they got because Launchpad was driving.

With a sigh, Gladstone stretched himself out, tempted to run a hand through his hair.

He wasn't fine, not yet. But this was a start.

**Author's Note:**

> the next story in the series is out


End file.
